The Hunting Rose
by Jayie The Hufflepuff
Summary: Rose thought the story would never end. But then came the Army of Ghosts, and she was sent falling into the Void. Instead of dying in the Void, she finds herself in a new universe, where demons, ghosts, and other monsters are all real. As she and John Winchester join forces, and she comes to know his world, she finds herself wondering - what if she's stuck there forever?
1. Prologue

_When the Doctor took my hand and told me to run, I thought it would never end. I thought we'd always be running, the Doctor and Rose Tyler in the TARDIS, side by side, forever. But nothing lasts forever. This is the story of our end, my end with the Doctor._

He'd tried to send her away. That idiot man, he was always trying to keep her safe, always sure he knew what was best. But she'd made her choice a long time ago, and damn it, it was her choice to make. It didn't matter that she was leaving her family behind in Pete's World, not really. Because she'd always known it would end like this. It didn't matter now many times she went back to them, because she didn't belong to them anymore. She'd chosen the Doctor the moment she'd set foot in that wonderful, magical box, and she didn't regret that, no matter what she had to give up. It was the choice she'd made, and she'd known the consequences.

The Doctor looked horrified when she popped back into his universe, even after he'd tried to send her off to Pete's World. He'd grabbed her shoulders, desperate, trying to make her see sense. "Once the breach collapses, that's _it_," he reminded her roughly. "You will never be able to see her again. Your own mother!" She could see it, he was blaming himself again, blaming himself for separating her from her family, always holding himself accountable for this that weren't his fault.

Rose met his wild gaze calmly. "I made my choice a long time ago, and I'm never gonna leave you." She had to make him see, it was _her_ choice. This wasn't his fault. She'd promised him forever, and she wasn't going to break that promise. She wasn't going to leave the Time Lord who still needed her. And she needed him too. The Doctor and Rose Tyler. They fit together, always.

_Not all promises can be kept. Not all ends can be outrun._

She thought they were okay. The Void was opened, the Daleks and Cybermen were being pulled in, she and the Doctor were clinging to the walls, safe. She thought they'd made it, that this could soon be a memory, a story to tell of how she and the Doctor got into trouble again.

That's the lever slipped, and their safe, happy ending was lost.

The companion could hear the Doctor yelling for her to hold on, could see the panic in his eyes, the absolute terror of losing her. She gritted her teeth, fighting to keep a grip on the lever. Her heart was banging against her ribcage, fear burning through her veins. If she let go, it wasn't just the Doctor she was leaving behind. It was the life she'd chosen, a life where she could go to the farthest corners of the universe, save lives, help people, do things that mattered. Desperation to hold onto that life made her heart race even faster, a desperate tempo that pounded in her ears, in her throat, her chest, blotting out everything else. She had to hold on, she _had_ to.

_No matter how hard you try, no one can hold on forever._

Her hands slipped. The vortex began to pull her in, sending her falling, falling into the Void, with nothing between her and the utter blackness. The Doctor screamed her name, the word tearing from his throat, a sound of utter desperation. She screamed too, a wordless screech of terror as she was pulled into the Void.

The last thing she saw was the Doctor's expression of terror, panic, loss, and pain, all rolled into one, then that world was gone and everything was dark.

_The Valiant Child will die in battle. My time has come._

She could feel her limbs loosening, relaxing as she drifted gently in the black. Her breath was fading, growing weaker, the blackness of the Void crushing in around her vision.

_My name is Rose Tyler, and this is the story of how I died._

Darkness.

Then a twitch. A flicker.

_But I am not just Rose Tyler._

Strength flooding through her limbs. A breath, and then another, lungs fighting to fill with air.

Rose Tyler shuddered back to life, gentle resignation strwngthening into determination. She could live, she _would_ live, she would _fight_, because that is what the Doctor had taught her.

_I am not just Rose Tyler. I am the Bad Wolf, and this is my story to write!_

Her eyes snapped open, blazing with a fierce, golden light. The Bad Wolf felt a surge of power, something that tasted of Time and Fate and Choice. It built up, stronger, all that power built up in that small pink and yellow human.

The Bad Wolf sent herself hurtling through the Void, the power of Time propelling herself through the darkness. She reached out, feeling for a world beyond the Void, somewhere to land. She paused._There._ The Wolf grinned.

_My story with the Doctor has ended. But there are other stories to be told. New worlds to be seen._

SCENEBREAK

The blond girl flickered into existence. She landed in a forest, in a clearing tinted silver by moonlight. Everything around her was bathed in the golden light of the Bad Wolf, her entire body radiating with it. The Wolf held the glow for a few moments before it faded into nothing. Rose Tyler blinked, confused, head groggy, getting a brief glimpse of the universe she'd landed in. Then she collapsed onto the forest floor, spent.

As the companion fell unconscious, she didn't see the man further back in the trees, who had witnessed her entire, unorthodox entrance.

Nor did she see the glint of a gun in his hand.

* * *

Right. Well. Um.

If you are currently rolling your eyes and/or grumbling, "Jayie is bad enough updating the fanfictions she already has, she definitely shouldn't be starting a new one," you are completely right. And I apologize. I really do. But I came up with the idea, and I had to get it down.

I'm going to make myself finish another TSWS chapter before I update this again. I will definitely keep updating The Soldier Who Stayed. Don't worry.


	2. Chapter One: The Yellow Eyed Wolf

John Winchester was, at the moment, very much _not_ in the mood to be fucked with.

He had been hunting in the woods near the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia. It was a standard run, vengeful spirit, salt and burn, nothing special. But then, he'd seen her.

A young blonde woman had flickered into existence out of nowhere, almost like a ghost. But ghosts didn't faint. Ghosts didn't glow weird colors. And ghosts definitely, _definitely_, didn't have yellow eyes.

All those years looking, all that pain and waiting and wishing it had been different, and the hated Yellow Eyes had fallen right into his lap. There was no room for rational thought, none of the thinking things through and assessing the situation before charging in. This was not an opportunity he was missing. Rage took over. He grabbed the girl and took her, stuffing her in the trunk of the impala and taking off.

Now she was tied up in a chair in front of him, in the hunting cabin he'd rented. She was still unconscious, head drooping on one shoulder, a few locks of blond hair falling messily over her face. She couldn't have been more than twenty, hardly more than a kid. John couldn't help but think about how wrong that was, that the monster, the _thing_ that had killed his wife, could look so innocent.

The rage still boiled in his blood, but now it was colder, like ice. His wife had burned, her stomach sliced open, until there was nothing left of her beauty but ash. He was going to make this sorry son of a bitch die _slow_. For now, he just waited for the creature to wake, letting his rage simmer, imagining all the ways he could possibly make her suffer.

**SCENEBREAK**

Rose let out a groan, fighting a wave of dizziness as she slowly came to. She felt groggy, her whole body sort of heavy. The companion opened her eyes, blinking a couple times to clear her vision.

As her gaze focused, she saw that she was in some sort of cabin, with old wooden flooring and walls, and a couple rugs. A dusty old window was the only source of light, weakly filtering in the early morning sun. Her gaze swept over the room, finally reaching a man over by the kitchen area. He was facing away from her, hunched over a table, doing something Rose couldn't quite see.

Rose coughed. "Hey, sir?" She tried to stand, only to find her hands and feet bound with rope. Instead of freaking out, like a normal person might, all she could do was groan and think, _Not again._

The man stiffened. "You're finally awake," he remarked in a gruff American accent. As he turned to face her, Rose finally caught a glimpse of all the weapons lined up on the table, the sharp glint of knives and metal gleam of guns, and things she hadn't even seen before. She tensed, wrists tugging against their bonds. The man picked up one of the knives, handling it casually, twirling it like he didn't even notice it was there. He came over stiffly, gaze never wavering from Rose as he slowly sat in a chair across from her. "Been a long time," he remarked quietly.

Rose tugged nervously at her ropes. There was something in the man's voice, a quiet rage, something burried but not quite gone. It almost reminded her of the Doctor, her first Doctor with the big ears and the Northern accent and the goofy grin, but this man seemed even colder. She forced her voice to stay even as she asked, "I'm sorry, have we met? I don't really live my life in order, see, sometimes people meet me before I meet them."

The man leaned forward, tensed, knife held far too comfortably in his hand. "You know who I am, Yellow Eyes," the man growled out. "You know what you did to me."

Rose blinked. _Yellow Eyes?_ That sounded familiar somehow, but she couldn't think of why exactly. Slowly she told him, "I think you've got me confused. My name is Rose Tyler, and I honestly don't know who you are -"

The man held up his knife, pointing it right at her throat, causing Rose to fall silent. She watched him in wary silence as he continued to point it at her. He spoke again in a very deliberate tone. "Don't. Lie. To me." He got up, slowly beginning to circle Rose. "I don't know what you are, or why you did it. I don't know who that girl is you're wearing -"

"I'm sorry, what?" Rose interrupted, forgetting her fear for a moment through sheer confusion. "What do you mean, the girl I'm wearing?"

"I mean that poor soul you're using as a meatsuit," the man snapped. "You sick bastard, she can't be more than twenty. Stupid me, thinking you'd have the decency to wear someone older when I finally found you." He leaned in closer to her shoulder, voice going low and threatening. "But don't think that'll stop me from flaying the skin off your bones." Rose shuddered despite herself. Whoever this man thought she was, he clearly hated that person more than anything.

"You're mistaken," she said as calmly as she could manage. "I'm not wearing anybody, and I'm not Yellow Eyes, whatever that means. I'm human."

The man rolled his eyes. "Stop wasting my time," he growled. "I saw you, out there. I don't know how you're pulling it, but I saw your eyes, yellow as the day you took my wife from me." There was cold hatred in his voice as he spoke, rage making his voice tremble.

Yellow eyes. No, not yellow, golden. Golden with the glow of Time. _The Bad Wolf._ Rose finally remembered showing up in the forest, the feeling that something had drained her, the same feeling on that game platform a year ago. She remembered the Daleks and Cyberman, the Army of Ghosts, Torchwood, Canary Wharf. Being pulled into the Void. Promising the Doctor she was going to stay with him.

Rose's eyes widened with horror. The Void. She'd been pulled into the Void. _No._ Her throat felt tight, heart squeezing painfully. In a hoarse whisper, she asked the man, "Where am I?"

"I'm asking the questions around here -" the man started.

"_Where am I?!_" Rose practically screamed, heart hammering against her ribs, roaring in her ears. No. It couldn't be. She couldn't have lost them all. The Doctor, her family, everyone she'd ever known... No. It couldn't be, it _couldn't_.

Not bothering to wait for the man to give her an answer, she shifted her arms so she could reach her pocket. The man tensed, reaching as if to stop her, but she just pulled out her phone. With a trembling hand she slid the case open.

No signal.

She froze. _No._ The Doctor had fixed her phone so that it could pick up a signal anywhere, absolutely anywhere in Time and Space. If it couldn't find one here, that could only mean one thing. She was in a parallel universe, and the Doctor and the TARDIS weren't. Her only hope of hopping through dimensions, of getting home. They were lost, forever. She was stuck.

"_No!_" Rose completely forgot about the man as she took in deep, heaving breaths, sobs wracking her shoulders. She'd lost him, she'd lost them all. Her mum, Pete, Mickey, the Doctor. Her family. She thought she'd chosen one over the other, but now she'd lost them all, everyone she'd ever cared about, she was never going to see any of them again. And the Doctor, her Time Lord, that idiot man with the messy hair that made her crazy, and the brainy specs he put on just to look impressive, and the excited grin that was always so infectious, and the hand that fit so comfortably in hers. The man she loved to the ends of the universe, though she'd never faced those feelings before, the man she would've died for a hundred times over, and nearly had. _Gone._ The pain flooded through her, breaking out in broken, heaving sobs, emotions she could no longer control.

All she could do was sob, and mourn what she had lost.

**SCENEBREAK**

John was at a loss.

He was not a man easily surprised, and he had expected Yellow Eyes to play some mind tricks when he was finally caught. But this wasn't the hyperventilating whimpering of a civilian, or the BS he'd expect from someone trying to play off as human. This was the uncontrollable sobbing of someone who had lost someone. This was the kind of crying you just couldn't stop, the kind that tore the air from your lungs and left your throat raw. That was real.

John was conflicted. On the one hand, he really wanted to keep hating this girl, his only lead on his wife's death. But he'd felt that pain before, the feeling of loss do great it scraped out everything inside and left you raw. That wasn't something that could be faked. He knew it too well.

_The girl had appeared out of nowhere, encased in a strange, warm glow. Her eyes had blazed with a fierce, golden glow._ Golden. Golden, not yellow. He'd been so desperate to have found Yellow Eyes at last that he'd been willing to forget what he'd actually seen in favor of what he'd wanted to see. He would never forget the hateful yellow eyes of the man who killed his wife, and that wasn't what he'd seen last night. This wasn't Yellow Eyes.

The rage drained out of him, leaving him feeling weary and empty. Just another dead end, another day he'd failed his wife. He put a hand over his face, ignoring the girl's sobs for a few minutes, quietly contemplating the loss of his victory.

He only gave himself a minute of grief. Then the Hunter in him took over, forced him to clear his head and think. The girl may not be Yellow Eyes, but something had definitely been possessing her in that forest. People didn't just glow gold for no reason. He had to figure out why, and finish the case he came for in the first place.

John slowly rose from his chair, crossing back over to the table to set his knife down. In its place, he picked up his flask of Holy water, pouring it into a glass, with a pinch of salt. Just because he'd decided to trust that she was human didn't mean he was stupid.

The Hunter turned back to the girl, who's sobs had subsided to a weak whimper. Uncomfortable, he let out a gruff cough, causing her to look up. "Here." He held out the glass.

She started to reach for it, but her hands were still bound, keeping her arms awkwardly pinned to her side. "Er, little help with this?" she asked in her British accent, waving her hands a little for emphasis.

"Right, sorry." He reached back for the knife on the table, then used it to free her hands. The girl rubbed her wrists as the rope fell off, then stretched out her arms, which were probably stiff from sitting too long. She bent down and undid the rope binding her feet and waist, then reached out and grabbed the glass she'd been offered, looking perfectly content to sit in the chair she'd been tied in.

"Thanks," the girl said in a slightly hoarse voice. She took a sip, then grimaced, probably at the salty taste. But no other adverse reaction. She was clean.

John nodded, taking the glass back and putting it on the table behind him. "Sorry about that," he said gruffly, "I thought you were someone else."

The girl shrugged. "Eh, I've been through worse," she said unconcernedly.

That got John's attention. "You've been through worse than some guy kidnapping you in the woods, tying you up, and threatening you with a knife?" he asked dubiously.

To his surprise, she just let out a light chuckle, still muffled by a throat raw from crying. "You've got no idea," she said mysteriously. She blinked at him, fear seemingly replaced by pure curiosity. "If you don't mind me asking, who'd'ya think I was? I'm guessing you're not best friends."

Rage stirred in him again at the mention of Yellow Eyes, but he pushed it away. "It doesn't matter," he said darkly. This girl's curiosity and complete lack of fear were starting to irritate her. Time to get this conversation back on track. "Listen, do you have any idea how you got out in that forest?"

"Er, not entirely," the girl admitted, though John got the feeling there was something she wasn't saying. "Where am I, exactly?"

"Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia," John supplied.

The girl nodded, not looking that surprised. "Right, I figured it was America, what with the accent and all," she reasoned. "Would you mind telling me what year it is? Not to sound too weird or anything."

John looked at her in surprise. _What year?_Whatever had been using her as a meatsuit must've been there years, even decades, if she wasn't sure what year it was. The girl should've been frightened out of her mind, or even a bit disoriented, but after she was done crying, she seemed completely okay with her situation. By rights she should be running and screaming from the stranger who'd kidnapped her, not sitting and calmly answering his questions. It was unnerving.

"1990," he told her. She nodded to herself, again not looking surprised. He leaned in closer. "Do you have any idea how long you've been like this?"

"Like what?" she asked, looking confused.

_Maybe she doesn't know what happened to her._He stood, putting a hand on the back of the chair. "Listen, I don't have time to sugarcoat this, and you seem pretty hard to faze, so here goes. I'm pretty sure you've been possessed by something."

Her eyes widened. "Possessed?" she repeated incredulously. She didn't seem disbelieving though, just... surprised.

He nodded. "I've seen it before. Not quite like you, though. You just appeared out of nowhere, and golden and glowing, then collapsed. I don't think it was a demon, I didn't see any black smoke, but you never know. It could've been a spirit of some kind, but I've never heard of one possessing anyone for a long stretch of time. 'Course, I guess you could've just been zapped here by something, maybe some sort of god or something, though I've never heard of anything just zapping people to the middle of nowhere."

"Whoa, slow down," she said, holding up her hands. "What're you talking about? Ghosts, demons, gods?"

He held back an impatient sigh. "They're all real," he said as patiently as he could. "All of those and more, any of those monsters you look for in the shadows when you're a kid. One of them's the reason you're here, and I need to figure out which one and how to kill it so you can get back to your life."

**SCENEBREAK**

Rose really wasn't sure what the man was talking about. The closest she'd ever come to seeing ghosts was that Christmas in Cardiff, when they fought the Gelth with Charles Dickens. _Not to mention the Cyberman..._

She shook her head, chasing off that thought before it could properly form. Instead, she wondered about the man's words. Was he talking about aliens? Sometimes they were mistaken for monsters. Could be, though she hasn't heard of any that could posses people. At least, not with technology from 1990, no matter what planet.

Before she could ask any more questions, the man's cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, picking up the call. "Agent Howard," he greeted shortly. He listened for a few moments, then nodded. "Alright. I'm on my way." He snapped the phone shut.

Rose watched him curiously. "What was that about?" she asked.

He sighed, putting the phone down. "I'm going to need you to stay here," he told her brusquely. "You're not the only supernatural thing in town, and I've got work to do."

"What kind of work?" He'd said earlier he planned to kill whatever had sent her here. If it really was some sort of alien, she couldn't just let him kill it, not without trying to figure out why it was there and how friendly it was.

The man seemed irritated by the question. "It doesn't matter," he said dismissively. He turned to the table, grabbing his keys and some other stuff. "There's some leftovers in the fridge if you want anything," he told her without looking at her. "When I get back, I'll be able to help you get back home, but not until I figure out what brought you here in the first place." He started towards the door.

"So you want me to just sit here being useless?" she asked dubiously.

"Yes," he replied bluntly.

She got to her feet. "Too bad," she told him just as bluntly. "I'm coming with you."

The man just rolled his eyes. "No, you're really not."

Rose just smirked, that mix of eager and smug the Doctor used on the idiots who thought they could tell him what to do. "I'm coming whether you like it or not," she informed him.

She started towards the door, but he put out an arm to block her. In a firm voice he told her, "I don't need to be looking after some clueless kid while I'm trying to do my job."

Rose scoffed. "I'm capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much, and I'm not a kid." The loss of her family still hurt like hell, but she wasn't going to just sit around while she could be helping save people. Besides, it would distract her from thinking too much about what she'd lost.

The man's eyes narrowed. "I'll tie you up again if I have to," he warned.

Rose just rolled her eyes. "You willing to bet I can't figure a way out of that?" she asked scornfully. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You leave me in that chair, I won't be here when you get back, and you'll never know what happened."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. For several moments, he didn't say anything. Rose just met his glare evenly, the corner of her lip still twitched into a slight smirk. She'd convinced the Doctor to let her see her dad in Pete's world, she'd convinced a Dalek not to kill a man. She was Rose bloody Tyler. This guy didn't stand a chance.

Finally, the man moved his arm out of the way. "Fine," he growled.

Rose gave that infuriating grin the Doctor had picked up from her, pushing past the man to get outside. Her heart wasn't totally in it yet, but as long as she was moving and on an adventure again, she wouldn't have to think about the Time Lord she'd lost.

"Come on then," she called cheerfully over her shoulder. "Allons-y!"

* * *

So, here's another chapter of The Hunting Rose. Fair warning, I haven't watched any episodes with Rose or John in a while, so if their voices are off, that's why. (yes, Rose is my favorite companion, but her episodes are too painful to watch, her and the Doctor being so obliviously in love when Doomsday's right around the corner. D:)

Anyway, I like how this chapter turned out, and it was fairly easy to write, which is nice after all the frustration I've gotten with TSWS.

In other news, I don't remember if I've mentioned this before, but this weekend I'm in a figure skating show that's made up of a bunch of TV shoe numbers, and one of them is Doctor Who, so long story short, I get to skate as the Eleventh Doctor! :D I'm really, really excited about it.


	3. Chapter Two: Howard and Smith

They had to hike out into the woods on foot. The body had been found a few miles in, not far from the first one. It was a steep, rocky slope that was sparse of trees. The police were already there when they arrived, the whole area fenced off with yellow tape and swarming with officials. John had to flash his badge to get through, but no one seemed too bothered by the girl following him. One of them, the officer in charge of the case, saw John and waved him over. "Figured you'd want to hear about this," he told him when they were closer. "Same set-up as the last one." The man, Detective Reynolds he remembered, looked curiously at the girl.

John still had doubts about bringing the kid on a hunt, but she really wasn't giving him much choice. He'd just have to make sure she didn't get anywhere near the actual hunt. "Detective, this is my partner," he explained reluctantly.

He was about to introduce her, but before he could, the girl quickly pulled out a leather wallet, flipping it open to reveal an FBI badge. "Agent Jane Smith," she introduced herself with an easy smile. Detective Reynolds seemed appeased, but John narrowed his eyes. Why was this strangely well-adjusted civilian carrying a fake badge?

The detective nodded politely to her, then turned back to John. "Come on, I'll show you the body." He pushed through the throng of crime scene analysts, until they could see what they were crowding around.

A young man, maybe late teens, was sprawled across the rocks, looking pretty much the same as the first victim. Battered and bruised, back broken, one leg twisted in an awkward position, also broken he would bet.

One of the medical examiners gingerly turned over the man's arm for John to see. There were scrape marks along his forearm. "Just like the last one," the medical examiner sighed. "I can't say yet, but I'm willing to bet he was alive for a while after his spine broke. I think he tried to climb up the slope to get help."

John nodded grimly. "Same bones broken too, I bet?"

The medical examiner looked up in surprise. "Yes," she said warily. "How do you know?"

"Lucky guess," he said dismissively. The Hunter spared a quick glance over at the girl. He hadn't bothered to warn her how bad the scene might look; if she was stubborn enough to tag along, she'd have to deal. She was staring at the body, not with horror or fear, but a deep, quiet sympathy. He was surprised to see how much older she looked in that moment, more mature, sadder.

In an even voice, she asked, "Who was he?"

Detective Reynolds, who was on the other side of the body, supplied, "Josh Harrison, 18, college student, there's a couple colleges in the area. Hiking's big with the kids nearby. It was a group of hikers who found him."

The girl nodded quietly, but other than that she didn't react. She just asked quietly, "Has anyone told his family?"

The detective nodded. "Their number was in his cell, someone's calling them now."

John excused himself, then pulled the girl aside, taking them to an area of the crime scene less populated. He pulled out his EMF meter, which was buzzing and beeping insistently, the needle wavering wildly. The girl looked at it with interest. "What's that?" she asked curiously.

"EMF meter," he told her gruffly. "Senses ghost activity."

"So you really think a ghost did this?" she asked dubiously.

John just bit back a groan. He growled irritably, "Look, don't believe me if you don't want to, but quick bugging me about it."

The girl nodded agreeably. "Alright." After a moment, she asked more cheerfully, "So, Agent Howard then?" There was a teasing note in her voice; she clearly knew he wasn't a really agent.

He shrugged. "I need information from the cops, and they'll only talk to Feds."

She held up her hands. "Hey, no , I get it, believe me," she assured him.

John looked at her curiously. "You seem pretty comfortable lying to the cops," he commented. He noticed she still had her fake ID loosely in her hand. "Where'd you get that anyway?"

She grinned, handing it to him. "It's psychic paper," she told him. He flipped it open, expecting to see the FBI badge, but instead it displayed the words "psychic paper" in a hurried scrawl. "It can show people whatever I want it to. A friend of mine had some extra lying around, he gave it to me as a birthday gift."

John looked at it with growing interest. This girl seemed to have no end of surprises under her sleeve, and maybe not in a good way. He was beginning to suspect she knew more about the supernatural than she was letting on. "Is it magic?"

She snorted. "Nah, just advanced science." As she stuffed it back in her pocket, she asked curiously, "So wait, magic's real here too?"

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, something's got to be keeping these spirits around," he remarked drily. "Yes, there's magic, and witches and others who can use it." He still wasn't convinced that the psychic paper wasn't magic, not was he convinced she wasn't playing him. She could be a witch, or a wiccan.

The girl nodded, looking thoughtful, like she was absorbing the new information. After a moment, she was grinning again. John found her cheerfulness disconcerting, especially for someone who'd been sobbing their heart out mere minutes ago. "So, do I get a real name, or do I have to call you Howard?" she teased.

He hesitated, then shrugged. "John." She may be in the supernatural world now, but that didn't mean he was trusting her with his full name.

"John who?" she pressed, smirking slightly at her own question. He didn't elaborate, so after a few moments she shrugged. "Alright then, John. That'll do for now I guess."

The girl had mentioned her name before, John remembered, but he couldn't recall what it was. "What's your name again?"

The girl smiled, warm and friendly, and just a bit knowing. "Rose Tyler," she told him.

**SCENEBREAK**

After they left the crime scene, John reluctantly told Rose, "You did good back there. Most throw up after their first body."

"How do you know that was my first body?" the companion asked teasingly. She was feeling better, happier now that she had something to focus on, a new adventure, but that sense of loss still lingered. She was doing her best not to think of the Doctor, or the rest of her family. She kept smiling, kept joking, acting as much like herself as possible, forcing herself to act like everything was okay. Maybe if she acted like she was okay, if she ignored the grief clawing at her insides long enough, she'd actually convince herself it was true.

It helped having John around. Not only had she lost her family, but she was now stranded in an entirely different universe. She had no ID, no home, nobody at all who knew she even existed. No one and nothing. And most importantly, no one who would ever believe what had happened to her, or understand.

John definitely wasn't the sympathetic type, but at least he might believe her. How lucky she'd been, to find someone who believed in the strange right away. Though her definition of "lucky" might've skewered, she mused, if she considered herself lucky after being threatened at knifepoint.

The man was suspicious, and gruff, and ruthless, if his threats to flay the skin from her bones were anything to go by. He was dangerous, there was no doubt of that. Nor was he entirely pleasant to be around. But his life definitely seemed interesting, and even under that pain, the itch for adventure was still well and alive. She had no reason not to keep tagging along with him.

John stiffened at her mysterious words. "You're unusually comfortable with all this for a civilian," he said in a low voice. There was that suspicion again, something Rose wasn't used to. The Doctor (don't think about him, not now, too soon) might have been gruff when he'd first met her, but he was never suspicious. He was always so open and welcoming, even with his enemies, he never closed anything off from them. He was always so undeniably _him_. It had taken Rose a while to figure out the pain he was hiding underneath, to know him fully, but he was still a very open person.

John was different. He was completely closed off, almost emotionless except for sarcasm. The only real look she'd gotten into his head was when she was tied in that chair, when he'd thought she was Yellow Eyes. That was when she'd gotten to see the rage, and the hate. She wasn't sure what his whole story was, or what this Yellow Eyes had done to him, but she could see that his gruffness was just armour to hide that rage, just like the Doctor used his cheerfulness to mask his guilt and loneliness. She could see the similarities between the two, but they were still so different, and it was strange having someone so suspicious and untrusting. She was usually so open about her travels in the TARDIS.

Before she could explain herself, his hand shifted, slowly pulling out his gun. She stiffened as he pulled it out and held it down. He didn't point it at her, but it was held at his side, ready and threatening. "I do believe you haven't been telling me everything," he said in a low voice.

Rose kept an eye on the gun, keeping her voice casual. "Maybe not," she admitted. It wasn't the first time she'd been threatened with a gun, not by a long shot, but usually she had some form of backup, or a certain Time Lord right next to her cracking jokes and keeping things light. She supposed if she was murdered out here in the woods, no one in any universe would ever know. "Would you believe me if I said, you wouldn't believe me if I told you?"

John scoffed. "I think we've made it pretty clear I'm not the one with the issue with believing," he said drily. He clicked off the safety, his gun hand tensing as he said, "I don't know who the hell you are or what you're doing here, but there's no way you're a civilian. So what are you? A witch? A wiccan? A psychic?"

"None of the above," Rose told him carefully. She hesitated – saying the wrong thing and pissing him off could get her shot – but in the end, she figured she might as well try. He wasn't going to let her go without an explanation of some sort, and he believed in the supernatural, he might believe in aliens too. "All right. What do you know about parallel universes?"

This made him pause. "What do I know about what?" he repeated dubiously.

"Parallel universes," she repeated. The companion held up her hands in two parallel lines for emphasis. "There's not just the one universe, there's tons, one for every decision made, some with litle differences, some with bigger. They're all interconnected, but it's nearly impossible to jump from one universe to the next."

John looked skeptical, but he seemed willing to go along with it for a bit. "Alright. Say that's true. What does that have to do with you in the forest?"

She let out a slow breath. "Because that's where I'm from," she told him sadly. "When you saw me in the woods, I'd just crossed over from a different universe." He looked skeptical, so she reluctantly continued. "There were these... things that were killing people, and they'd crossed over from a different dimension, so my friend and I cracked open the walls between the universes so we could send them back. We sent them into the Void between the universes, but I fell in, and ended up... here, for some reason."

That was worrying too – she'd fallen into the Void, so why was she in this universe instead of floating around in the dark? Based on what John had said, it had to do with the Bad Wolf, which was a major problem. The Bad Wolf was supposed to be gone. The Doctor had pulled the Time Vortex out of her. He'd died doing it. So why had the Bad Wolf been able to pull her out of the Void?

She was pulled out of her worried thoughts by John's voice. "You're saying you just magically popped in another dimension?" There was a heavy layer of sarcasm in his voice.

Rose couldn't help but smirk with amusement. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're the one saying ghosts are killing people. How's what I'm saying any stranger?" she challenged.

"Because I know ghosts are real," he said firmly. "I've seen 'em with my own eyes – hell, I've killed more of the supernatural than you've probably ever heard of. I've never seen any proof of any differen universes."

Rose lifted her chin stubbornly. "And I've never seen a ghost before, so why should I trust what you're saying?" she retorted. "It could be aliens for all I know."

That actually got a laugh from John. "Aliens aren't real," he informed her. "Any Hunter worth his salt knows that."

"And any time traveler worth their salt knows that ghosts and werewolves are just aliens mistaken for being supernatural."

John was looking increasingly amused. "Time travel? Aliens? You really think they exist?" It was clear he thought she was just some crazy conspiracy theorist. Rose felt a flash of irritation.

"I know they do," she told him stubbornly. "I don't have to prove anything to you." She waved her psychic paper, reminding him, "I had to have gotten this somewhere, right?" When he still looked unconvinced, she sighed. "Look, believe me or don't, but my answer's not going to change. I'm not a witch, I'm not a threat to you, I'm not gonna kill you in your sleep or anything. I'm human, I promise. And I'm just trying to help."

John's face closed off, expressionless once again. "I don't need help," he told her gruffly. "And I certainly don't need to be looking after you while I'm trying to do my job."

Rose glared at him. "I told you already, I can look after myself," she said a little testily. "I've met aliens tougher than any ghost. I'm not asking you to look after me, I'm asking for a chance to help. I helped people back in my universe, I wanna do that here too. Besides, I don't..." she hesitated, then admitted, "I don't know anyone in this universe, alright? I haven't got any money or anything, and I don't have anywhere to go. You're the only person who's got any chance of believing me, so I might as well stick with you."

The Hunter looked her up and down, considering. Then he gave a weary sigh. "Fine," he finally said. "I guess I still need to figure out what really put you in that forest, so you might as well stay close. But if I'm not dragging you out of trouble every time you stub your toe. You say you can look after yourself, you better be able to." He started off again, not bothering to look back to see if she was following.

Rose watched him walk away for a few moments, fighting back a sigh. She had a partner for now, but she had a feeling it wasn't going to end well. He clearly didn't believe her, or particularly care what happened to her. She might have someone to work with for a while, but it still felt like she was on her own.

* * *

Here's more of The Hunting Rose! I really hope I got John right, Rose felt better to write this time. And yes, I gave Rose some psychic paper to make her stay in this 'verse a little easier, since she'll need fake ID a lot. Oh, and yes, the name Jane Smith was very much her copying the Doctor's usual John Smith.

**BloodLily16: **What, my story? On YouTube? How would that work?


	4. Chapter Three: Taking the Slow Path

When they returned to the hunting cabin, Rose turned to John, who was crossing over to the table. "So, what do we need to do to find this ghost or whatever?" Her voice was eager and cheerful. There was a lightness in her step John wasn't used to seeing, an energy that no one in his life seemed to have. Every Hunter he knew walked as though they were weighed down by the weight of all they'd seen, but Rose was light, still happy. It was weird to see.

Gruffly, he told her, "We need to find out who it is. That means research." He scooped his keys up off the table.

"Researching what exactly?"

He strode off towards his room, re-emerging with his hunting journal tucked under his arm. "Any strange or violent deaths in the area. We find any with a grudge who were killed in those woods, we find our ghost." As he crossed over to the front door, he told her, "There's a town not far from here, they've got a library. We can search the databases there."

Rose's expression wilted a little. "Urgh. Forgot I was in the ninties for a minute there." She wrinkled her nose with distaste. "Guess that means no laptops. Or phones with internet."

John snorted. "Get used to it, kid. There's no alien tech here to make your life easier."

She groaned. "Great. Guess I'm back to living life on the slow path again." The girl followed John outside, where his Impala waited. At the sight of it, she grinned a bit. "Nice car," she commented.

"Thanks." He was rather fond of it – he'd had it since before he and Mary had gotten married.

The girl smirked. "Could be bluer, though." Without explaining the comment, she headed over to the car, grinning back at the Hunter. "Let's go then. Sounds like we've got a lot of work to do."

**SCENEBREAK**

The library was a small thing, but it had computers, and John was quickly able to hack into the police records he needed. While he scanned through, Rose flipped through some old newspapers, grumbling something about being stuck in a time without Google.

The Hunter couldn't help but be curious about the strange girl. He didn't believe what she'd said about aliens and parallel universes, but he still wasn't sure what had actually put her in that forest, or why.

She was definitely no civilian. He would've guessed she was a Hunter, but she didn't have the right attitude for it. Hunters were grim, black humor types, at least all the ones he'd ever met. She was too open, too eager. He was pretty sure she wasn't the kind to use black magic, so witch was out, though he was still thinking wiccan. But if she was, why would she lie about it to a Hunter? If she was anything supernatural and was trying to cover it up, why act so strange in the first place? Why not act totally normal, instead of hinting at knowing something?

Whatever she was, she seemed pretty convinced with her "aliens and time travel" theory. Admittedly, John had heard of some instances of creatures that could time travel, mostly pagan gods. It was a rare ability, but it wasn't unheard of. Maybe she'd met one of those, or even known one well. That would explain the lack of surprise and asking what year it was.

Aliens, though, was another matter. All his time as a Hunter, he'd never heard of any proof of alien existence, or at least their presence on Earth. It was all just crazy conspiracy theories from guys living in their parents' basements. Rose didn't look like the crazy conspiracy theorist type, but she might just have confused the supernatural for the extraterrestrial. He was pretty sure that if aliens existed, some Hunter would've heard of it by now.

Rose looked up from her newspaper, head tipped curiously. "So, is this your job, then? You hunt supernatural things for a living?"

He snorted. "Not much of a living, but yeah."

"On your own?" she asked gently.

The Hunter stiffened, thinking of the two kids he had waiting for him. "Yeah," he lied. She didn't need to know about Sam and Dean. He wasn't that trusting.

"Sounds lonely," Rose commented. There was soft sympathy in her expression, also something John was unused to. "Are there other people like you who do this, or is it just you?"

"What, Hunters? Yeah, there's plenty of other Hunters."

"Then why not hunt with one of them?" she asked.

He scoffed. "Hunters ain't exactly the most friendly people in the world, sweetheart. Not many'd be wiling to work with me, or me them." The Hunter gave her a quick, sideways glare before turning back to his computer screen. "Enough with the Twenty Questions. This isn't an interview."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Fine. You at least want to tell me what we're up against? You said it's a ghost, right? But how'd you know?"

Reluctantly, he turned from his screen. "There's been two victims in the last two days; Dana Wilson and Josh Harrison. Both bodies found in almost the same place, both killed the exact same way, with the exact same injuries, down to the same broken bones and scrapes."

"Alright, but you got the call about the second body after you were already here," Rose pointed out. "How'd you get 'ghost' from just the one?"

"I didn't," he said gruffly. "But people who go missing in the woods don't turn up that often, and if they do, they've usually been a bear's chewtoy. Even if there's some human murderer in the woods, how do you break that many bones on a person, and then why leave them to die? Medical reports say it looks like the victims were thrown off a cliff. Odd way to kill someone. So yeah, I figured something supernatural was going on and came down to check it out."

Rose grinned. "Impressive," she complimented. "Makes sense, but how'd you go from that to ghost? You said there's tons of supernatural stuff out there, right?"

John was used to working in silence, without any other Hunters to bug him, let alone some way-too-peppy teenager asking a million questions. He was being very much reminded _why_ he preffered working on his own. "A lot of creatures kill in specific ways, and this didn't fit any of them. You know, no blood drained, so not a vampire, heart was still intact, which means it wasn't a werewolf. There was a lot of EMF activity at the crime scene, which told me there's a ghost in the area."

"Yeah, but why's it doing this?" the girl asked. "Why kill those kids? Did the ghost know them when it was alive?"

He shrugged. "Could be, but probably not. Ghosts'll lash out at anyone."

"Why?"

"Depends on the ghost," he told her. "Some were just sick bastards before and felt like carrying on in the afterlife. Others, something bad happened to them, usually they were murdered or just abused in life, and they decided to stick around for revenge. But ghosts usually aren't that coherrent, and they don't particularly seem to care who they're taking their revenge out on. They'll lash out at anyone they meet."

Rose nodded sadly, accepting his explanation. "All right. So what's your job then, put the ghost to rest?"

"Something like that."

The blonde's eyes narrowed. "'Something like that?'" she repeated sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'll do whatever it takes to get rid of this thing," he replied testily. "It means salting and burning the bones and getting rid of the ghost for good, and I don't rightly care what happens to it after that."

Rose glared at him, expression suddenly stoney. "You mean you're just going to kill it without trying anything else first? Without knowing what'll happen to it afterwards?"

He snorted. "Not much to kill. They've already died, I'm just finishing the job."

The blonde woman leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "Alright. But what about vampires and ghouls and those other things you mentioned? Is killing them the only option?"

The Hunter was starting to get irritated with the morality speech. He swung around to face her, growling out, "Look, innocent people are getting killed. My job – my _only_ job – is to protect them. Going around handing out hugs to monsters isn't going to do anyone any damn good. There's no reasoning with these things."

"And you never thought to try talking to them first?"

John looked at her incredidously. "They're monsters, sweetheart, not people. They're killers."

"So?" she asked angrily. "Doesn't mean you get to just kill 'em."

That was enough. He leaned forward, snapping, "You're the one who wanted in on this, remember? Now quit telling me how to do my job, or you're on your own."

The girl glared at him, clenching her jaw angrily, but after a few moments she gave a stiff nod. John turned stiffly back to his screen while she picked up her newspaper. He had a feeling that this wasn't the last he was going to hear about this from the stubborn blonde.

After a few moments of silence, she stiffened. "Here." She turned the newspaper so he could see it, pointing to one of the articles. As the Hunter skimmed through the article, Rose summed it up for him. "A year ago, a woman named Mallory Chann was out hiking with her friends when she disappeared."

John swung back to his screen, narrowing down his search. He finally got what he wanted. "Police reports say the friends were cleared of suspicion, but she still hasn't been found."

The blonde got up, coming behind him to look at the screen. "So, you think she's our ghost?"

"Dunno." He sat back, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow. "But I hope those friends of hers can tell us more."

Rose's brow furrowed in thought. "You think they know more than they're saying?"

"Like I said, vengeful ghosts like this one usually didn't die by accident," he said, "and it's the closest lead we've got right now." He stood, pushing back his chair. "Come on. We need to find out what happened to her."

**SCENEBREAK**

When they arrived at Tom Chann's house, the dead woman's cousin didn't look too happy to see them. They introduced themselves as FBI again, one of the parts of working with this Hunter that Rose was already used to. FBI wasn't one of her usual covers, but she and the Doctor had used psychic paper to get in places they weren't allowed. They really couldn't resist a keep-out sign.

Tom let them in with a tight grin, but Rose could see his knuckles were white as he gripped his coffee cup, the way he fought to meet their eyes.

She and John sat on the couch across from him, leaving him to stand awkwardly in front of them. John leaned forward, expression coolly professional. Rose could almost believe he really was FBI. "Mr. Chann," he said, "please tell us about your hiking trip with your cousin last year."

Tom nodded, hands still gripping his coffee mug, though he didn't seem to be drinking from it anymore. "It was just a few of our friends we grew up with. Her boyfriend Randy, and our friends Lily and Paul from college. Mal went out to look for something she'd dropped, and she didn't come back."

"'Mal?'" Rose repeated questioningly.

"Huh? Er, yeah, that's what we called Mallory." He shook his head. "I still can't believe it. I mean, anything could've gotten her."

Rose nodded sympathetically. That fit with everything in the police report and the article she'd read, but it'd sounded almost rehearsed. "You said Randy and Mal were dating at the time?" she asked. That part hadn't been mentioned.

Tom nodded. "Um, yeah, they'd been going out for a year. He was... he was really broken up about it." There was something stiff in his voice, a hestitation that made Rose think he wasn't being entirely truthful. She and John swapped a quick glance; clearly, he saw it too.

John leaned back against the soft back of the couch, looking briefly at the medical records he'd printed out. "Now, Mr. Cann, you said she went looking for something she'd dropped, right?"

The young man looked uneasily at him. He cleared his throat, then nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you remember everything leading up to her disappearance?" the Hunter asked.

Tom hesitated, his fingers anxiously tapping the side of his coffee mug. "Why?" he asked uneasily. "I thought the police wrapped the case up. It was ruled an accident. What does the FBI care?"

John smiled tightly. "Just following up," he assured him. "Now, could you describe it for me?"

The young man looked down. "Erm, why don't you ask Randy about it? He remembers it better."

"But you were there too," John pointed out. "You saw it too. You're as good to tell us as anyone else who was there." He leaned forward, voice suddenly becoming hard. "Unless there's something you're not telling us."

Tom stiffened, eyes widening in fear. "N-no, I'm telling you what happened," he said, his voice going high-pitched.

John started to speak, but Rose cut him off. "Tom, it's okay," she saidly gently, expression soft with sympathy. "If it wasn't your fault, just tell us. We can help you." Tom still looked scared, so she gave him a friendly, reassuring smile. "I promise."

He sighed, the nervous energy slowly draining from him, making him look hunched-over and weary. "Mal caught Randy sleeping with Lily," he said quietly. "Randy's pretty well known on campus as a controlling guy. I never saw it, but I knew his relationship with Mal wasn't... I mean, I could see sometimes, the bruises she couldn't hide." His hands clenched the coffee mug, tightening angrily. "I told her to get out, but she never listened to me, and when Randy found out, he told me to leave her alone, or else."

Rose nodded encouraginly. "Keep going," she said gently.

He nodded. "Well, that was finally enough for her, I think. The next morning, she told Randy they were through, that she was leaving. They got into this huge fight, and it started to get a little physical, so I went in to break it up. I-I'm not sure what happened, but someone pushed somone, and Mal... she fell." The kid paused, taking a shaky breath before continuing. "I wanted to go check on her, but she was lying so still, and Lily just kept screaming, saying she was dead. I - I mean, I was frozen, I just  
couldn't move, you know? Couldn't take in what was happening. There was this... this _crunch_, this awful... and she... she wasn't..." He trailed off, hands trembling slightly as he kept up his deathly tight grip.

After a few moments, he continued, "Then Randy, he said we should just leave her, that we couldn't tell anyone what had happened. I argued with him, but h-he said that we couldn't be sure who had pushed her, that either of us could be blamed. If we told the police what had happened, he'd blame me, and Paul said he'd back him up." He looked helplessly at the two FBI agents. "His mom's this big partner at a law firm. I'm just a mechanic. No way I'd win in any trial. And Mal was already dead."

"So you left her," John said in a hard voice.

Tom looked down. "I'm not trying to justify it, but... Randy didn't just scare Mal, okay?" He looked sadly at the two agents. "Are you going to arrest me?"

The Hunter let out a sigh. "No. But we need you to come with us. Show us where you left Mal."

The kid's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"So we can give her a proper burial," he said drily. "We'll work out what to do about it after we find the body."

Tom hesitated, then squared his shoulders, giving a firm nod. "Alright. Whatever I can do."

* * *

This is going to have to be quick, I need to get to bed. I'm heading to college tomorrow (yay, college, finally!) so I might be able to get a chapter out of TSWS, but I might not. Either way, don't expect much from me after that for a while. I'll be busy moving in and being at orientation, and I don't know how well the WiFi is gonna work up there.


	5. Chapter Four: The First Hunt

As they came out of Tom's house, Rose grabbed John's arm none-too-gently and pulled him quickly aside, Tom hanging back anxiously by the door. Once they were far enough away, she hissed, "So what exactly's your plan here?"

The Hunter shrugged. "Same as before."

"What, burning Mal's body?" she guessed scathingly. "And you think doing that in front of her cousin's somehow gonna be a good idea?"

John pulled his arm back from her grasp, glaring slightly at the blond woman. "I won't be doing it in front of him," he said gruffly, "because you're going to get him out of there as soon as we find the body."

The girl's eyes narrowed. "Oh really?" she said irritably. "What is this, a ploy to leave me behind again?"

"See it like you want," the Hunter said gruffly. "You were good with finding the thing, I'll give you that, but I don't need to be dragging civilians into a knock-out fight with a ghost."

Her voice grew sharp as she snapped, "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm not a civilian, and I don't need to be pushed to the sidelines." Her gaze flitted over to the man waiting by the door. "Wouldn't it just be easier to ask him where her body is and keep him out of it?"

"Ideally, yes," he agreed. "But it's a big forest, and he knows the area better than we do. We've got a better chance of finding her with him there. And we need to find her."

"Why? So you can kill her?" the girl asked coldly.

The Hunter felt a flash of irritation. The whole morality spiel was starting to get old. This Rose Tyler was plenty of things, but a Hunter wasn't one of them. This wasn't her gig, and she had no business coming in and telling him how to do his job, the job he'd carved a place for himself in the hard way. No business at all.

He glared at her, his voice taking on the sharp, military edge. "Remind me again, you're the one who wanted to come, right?" She glared back, eyes hard as he continued, "This spirit's been killing people, alright? It's already killed two people in two days. Now we need to put this thing down before it kills anyone else. I'm not going to risk anyone else's life for some ghost."

Before Rose could argue any further, Tom stepped forward, looking anxiously between the two "agents". "Is everything okay?" he asked slowly.

Rose's expression cooled, softening for the civilian's sake. "It's fine, Tom," she assured him.

John nodded. "Right. Everything fine. So we better get moving." He turned and strode back towards the Impala.

He just wanted to get this little salt-and-burn over with so he could figure Rose out and get rid of her.

**SCENEBREAK**

The drive to the woods was spent mostly in silence. Rose was still irritated at John and his refusal to treat her like anything other than a civilian. Stubborn bastard. The Doctor (don'trememberdon'tthink) may have worried about her and been protective, but he'd always treated her like a partner. He hadn't coddled her, or thrown her to the sidelines.

When they at the edge of the woods, John parked the car in stony silence. They all got out, but as Tom headed towards the trees, John held Rose back. "Come here." He led her to the trunk of the Impala, lifting it up to show an empty car trunk. Then he lifted up the false bottom.

Rose's eyes widened as she took in the sight of the trunk. There were guns, so many guns, and so many types too. Handguns, shotguns, hunting rifles. But it wasn't just guns. There were knives, machetes, lighters, stakes, all assortment of weapons, some of which Rose had never even seen before.

John propped the false bottom up with a rifle, then turned to Rose. "Pick one," he ordered bluntly.

A step back. "I've never used a gun," Rose told him quietly. She keeps her eyes on the arsenal in the trunk, all the tools to kill and maim. She wasn't as strongly anti-gun as the Doctor, but she wasn't one to use them, and right now, it was making her think too much of him, and how she'd warned him that Torchwood had guns, and how he'd grinned at her with that idiot, beaming grin of his and reminded her that he was unarmed and that made him the better man, and she couldn't be thinking of him, not now. So she stayed back.

John looked at her incredulously. "You said you could handle yourself," he reminded her roughly. "Now you're telling me you've never even fired a gun?"

Rose glared at him and told him stiffly, "I've never needed to before. Where I come from, people talk before resorting to violence. Even then, I never used guns."

The Hunter stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "Alright, fine. Whatever you say." He reached into the trunk and grabbed a shotgun, cocking it open so she could see inside the barrel. "Those are packed with rock salt. They won't kill a ghost, but it'll repel it and stop it from killing you, at least for a bit." Then he reached it out, offering it to her. "Take it." It wasn't a request.

The companion hesitated. A gun that didn't kill. That she could handle. The Do... he would've approved of that. With a slight grimace, she reached out and closed her hand around the cold steel of the gun.

John nodded slightly. He told her in a low voice, "If you want to be part of this fight, you have to do your part. Alright? I wasn't kidding. You say you can handle yourself, you better be able to."

She lifted her chin. "Fine," she told him coolly. "But I'm giving her a chance first. Everyone deserves a chance."

"Fine," he echoed unconcernedly. "But it won't change anything. All it's going to do is get you killed."

"Well that's my problem, isn't it?" Rose reminded him.

He chuckled slightly. "Yeah," he agreed, "so if 'trying to talk' gets you in trouble, don't expect me to drag you out of it."

The companion rolled her eyes. "You're all charm, aren't you?" she remarked sarcastically.

John just smirked slightly. He grabbed a pack and a couple of flashlights out of the trunk, then turned and headed back towards Tom, who was watching them warily. "Er, what's with the guns?" he asked with a little nervous laugh.

"Grizzlies," John told him in a deadpan tone.

The civilian looked at him oddly. "There aren't any grizzlies in these woods," he told him slowly.

The Hunter shrugged. "Well, you can never be too careful." He pushed past Tom, handing him a flashlight as he passed, starting off towards the forest. "Come on. It's already late, we need to find her fast."

"Why?" Tom asked, puzzled.

"Don't want to be out too late," was all John said. As she and Tom followed him, Rose remembered that both the deaths had happened at night. She guessed that John was thinking that meant the ghost could only attack at night. It was already after sunset; the ghost could come out at any moment.

She felt a brief shiver of fear, but mostly, it was excitement. A ghost. She was about to face a ghost. A real, honest-to-goodness, used to be human ghost. Not one of the Gelth, not one of the Cyberman ghosts, an actual, supernatural _ghost_. That thirst for adventure and excitement and new things to see was overwhelming any sense of fear she might have. She was on an adventure again, getting the chance to see something completely new, to help people again. The brief sense of grief over the Doctor faded, and she felt a lightness in her step again. Today was a good day.

Tom looked at her in surprise. "You're in a good mood," he noted warily.

Rose shrugged. "Just been a good day, I guess," she said lightly. John looked back at her with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing, just turning back to the trail. Tom was at the front of the group, Rose at the back with John in front of her. When the companion saw the hunch in Tom's shoulders, she passed John to walk beside Tom.

"Are you alright?" she asked the man gently.

He gave a dejected little half-shrug. "Does it matter?" he asked wryly. "This is my fault. It's been a whole year since Mal... since she..." He shook his head. "I should've done something before now. I should've gone back and helped her."

Rose just gave him a small smile. "It's not your fault," she assured him. "You didn't kill her."

"I might have," he said darkly. "Me and Paul were fighting, it was a blur, I didn't get to see who was the one who pushed her. For all I know, I'm the one who knocked her off the cliff."

The companion felt a rush of sympathy. Tom had been wrong to leave Mal like that, but she couldn't blame him, not entirely. He clearly loved his cousin. Gently she told him, "It doesn't matter, you were trying to protect her. And you're helping her now, aren't you?"

Tom just shook his head. "Yeah, a year later," he said bitterly. "If I'd helped her that day, the cops would've arrested Paul, and she would've gotten justice."

"You don't know that," Rose reminded him. "You said it yourself, Paul probably would've gotten off." When Tom continued to look dejected, she told him firmly, "Look, you didn't mean to kill her, right? So it's not your fault. Mal wouldn't blame you either. And now you're getting justice for her. It's over."

The young man finally seemed to draw a little hope from that. "Yeah. It's over." He let out a slow breath, some of the tension leaking from his shoulders. "I've wanted to tell people for so long, but I was scared I'd be blamed, and then it just got farther and farther away, and I didn't know if they'd even be able to find her. I didn't think anyone would ever believe me."

"We do," Rose assured him.

A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. I guess you do."

Rose felt a hand on her arm. She looked back to see John pulling her back, farther behind Tom. In a low voice he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Comforting someone who's lost a good friend," she said, glaring at him slightly. "Have a problem with that?"

John threw the young man a quick glare. "Mal has been leaving her victims alive, dragging themselves around until they die, right?"

"Yeah...?" Rose said uncertainly. Then she understood. She realized aloud, "You think Mal was still alive when she fell."

The Hunter nodded harshly. "It's that boy's fault she's dead. If he'd just helped her, she could have been saved."

Rose glared at him. "Tom doesn't know that," she hissed.

"He should."

"Why?" she asked sharply. "Look at him. He's a wreck already. You really want to add more to that? I thought your job was to help him, not make him feel worse about something he didn't cause."

John glared at her for a moment, Rose glaring right back, but the Hunter was the first to break away from the staring contest. He gave a stiff nod. "Whatever you want." John ignored her as he walked on, but Rose couldn't help but feel a smug flash of triumph. A small victory, perhaps, but a victory nonetheless. And she would make sure it wouldn't be the last.

She would make sure this ghost was treated with mercy first, whether John liked it or not.

**SCENEBREAK**

They were walking for a while, hiking through the moonlit forest. Tom seemed pretty confident, but John could tell something had changed. The air was getting colder, his breath visible in a puff of pale mist, and the sky seemed just that little bit darker.

He pulled Rose aside, telling her in a low voice, "She's coming."

Instead of looking worried, the girl grinned at him, looking strangely excited. The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Rose shrugged. "Nothing. It's just... _ghosts_." She grinned with excitement.

John stared incredulously at her for a few moments, then shook his head, allowing himself a small, amused smile. "Yeah. I guess." Her excitement was somewhat endearing. He'd never seen anyone this excited to be on a hunt before.

He turned to look at Tom, who was waiting ahead of them. "We need to find that body fast. She's probably going to try to stop us."

Rose followed his gaze, eyes softening with worry. "We need to get him out of here," she agreed. She called out to the man in question, "Hey Tom, how much longer?"

"Not far," came the reply. "Should be just past these trees."

John felt himself settle into the alert, grim feeling of professionalism. It was nearly time. Now he had to do his job and make sure everybody got through it.

As they came to the edge of the trees, the ground starting sloping upward, and became more rocky. "Nearly there," Tom informed them.

As he spoke, there was a fierce gust of wind, bitingly cold. John stiffened, but before he could say anything, a woman flickered into existence ahead of them. She had short, brown hair that had once been in a pixie cut, but was now ragged and tattered. Her clothing was dirty and full of holes, her skin pale and rotted. She glared at them, her image flickering slightly, glaring at them with dead brown eyes.

Tom stared at her in horror. "M...Mal?" he breathed.

John cocked his shotgun, swinging it up to point at the ghost, but Rose grabbed the muzzle and forced it down. "Don't!" she hissed. John gave her a look, but the stubborn blonde just glared at him, so he lowered the gun. He knew she wasn't going to rest 'til she gave the damn thing a "second chance."

Rose slowly approached the ghost, who stared at her with dull, dead eyes. "Mal?" she asked softly. The ghost gave no sign of having heard her. She just kept staring at the girl.

The girl kept walking slowly towards her, hands held palms down in a non-threatening gesture. In a level voice she said, "My name is Rose Tyler. I'm here to help you, Mal." The spirit just stared unblinkingly at her. "You've been hurting people. I know you've been hurt, you were left to die, but this isn't the way. I can help you. Please."

Mal stared at her for a few seconds longer. Then her expression grew fierce. Rose and John were thrown back by an invisible force, flung to the ground. Mal zapped herself in front of Tom, who was frozen in place, staring in horror at what was left of his cousin. She slowly started to lift a hand to his throat, fingers stiff and cocked like claws.

John was on his knees in an instant, firing a shot square at the ghost's back. She disappeared, scattering like dust. The Hunter took the opportunity to get back on his feet, gun at the ready. Mal flickered into existence again, but before John could shoot her again, she sent him flying through the air, slamming him against a tree. He crashed into it with a dull _thud_, feeling the air get slammed out of his lungs.

The ghost glared at him, zapping right in front of him. She reached out with her claw-like hand, but before she could touch him, there was a shot, and she vanished again. John was released, and stumbled back onto his feet.

He looked up to see Rose staring coolly where the ghost had been, gun still raised, though it was held somewhat awkwardly. The Hunter gave her a brief nod, then turned to Tom. "Where's her body?" he asked in his sharp, military tone.

The young man was completely white in the face, eyes glued to the spot where Mal had vanished. In a hushed voice, he managed to get out, "Just over that hill, by the stump."

John turned to Rose, ready to give orders, but she spoke before he could. "I'll keep her here. You find the body." She stood protectively in front of Tom, expression determined and focused, gun raised. John had thought of her as young and innocent up to that point, but now, he could see the dangerous tension, the protectiveness as she guarded Tom. She almost looked like a Hunter.

A little irritated that she was giving the orders, he gave a stiff nod. "Fine." He turned and ran for it, hurrying over the hill. He could hear the ghost shrieking behind him, and a gunshot, but he ignored it. He just kept going.

It was level his flashlight as he was running, but as he slowed to get a proper look, the light beam swung over what looked like a right-sized lump. John hurried over to it. Once he was closer, he could see, even though it was mostly covered in leaves and dirt, there were some bones poking through. It was definitely a human corpse.

The Hunter bent down onto his knees, quickly clearing the earth off her body. Gunshots rang behind him as he stood and reached into his pack for the salt. He dusted it quickly over the body, then pulled out a match, lit it, and threw it onto the body. It caught fire immediately.

John heard a howl of rage behind him. He turned and headed back over the hill, just in time to see Mal vanished, image flickering out.

**SCENEBREAK**

Rose let out a slow breath. It was over. Mal was gone, and Tom was safe. The hunt was over.

As John came back towards them, she turned to Tom. The color was slowly returning to his face, but now he looked a little green, expression now full of horror. "Is she gone?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

Rose nodded sadly. "I'm sorry," she told him.

Tom said nothing. He walked past Rose, heading towards where Mal's body was. John approached Rose, brow furrowed. "Are you two okay?" he asked in a low voice.

The companion nodded. "We're fine." She watched as the young man approached his cousin's body. "Poor Tom," she said softly.

John said nothing, brow still furrowed. Rose looked at him with concern, asking, "Are you alright?"

The Hunter nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Something about that ghost though... that didn't seem right."

Rose shrugged. "She's gone," she reminded the Hunter. "It's over. Now let's get out of here, it's late."

The two waited for Tom to rejoin them, then started heading back the way they'd came. Neither had seen Tom pick something from the burning remains of his cousin.

Neither had they noticed him slip the object into his pocket.

* * *

Dun dun dun!

I think John's voice might be a little better this chapter. I actually watched some John episodes recently, so I've got a better idea of what he's like.

Sorry it took so long to get this out, I was busy settling into college. College is awesome by the way! I really love the place I've chosen, my professors and classes are all awesome, I've got awesome class times, I'm riding and skating, and my roommate is awesome! I'm introducing her to Supernatural, and she loves it.


	6. Chapter Five: How To Save A Life

The hunt was over. The ghost was gone, they'd stopped the killings, and Tom was back home. It was over. It should've _felt_ over. But something about that hunt just wasn't sitting right with John.

They returned to the Impala, having dropped off Tom, and were on their way back to the cabin. As he drove, he kept thinking about the case, turning it over in his head. His instincts from years of hunting kept throwing details of the hunt at him, shoving them in his face and showing him how wrong they were.

"John?" He looked over to see Rose staring at him, eyebrows raised with concern. "Are you alright?" she asked.

The Hunter nodded stiffly. "I'm fine," he said quietly.

Rose raised an eyebrow, not looking convinced. "Earlier, you said something looked wrong about the ghost vanishing," she pressed. "You think she didn't really die or something?"

John shook his head. "It didn't look right," he told her. "There wasn't any flames, and it was too quick. It looked like an act."

"But we burned the bones," Rose reminded him. She paused, then shook her head with a slight chuckle.

The Hunter looked at her with amusement. "What, is that one of the stranger things you've said?" he guessed.

The blonde shook her head, telling him with a rueful laugh, "Actually, that's the thing. For me, that's pretty much in the range of normal. A little grotesque maybe, but not any stranger than anything I've done in the last two years." She grinned to herself at some memory, remarking with amusement, "I'm pretty sure traveling to the year 5 billion and stopping a homicidal flap of skin counts as weirder than burning some bones."

John just stared at her. After a few moments he shook his head with a sigh. "I hope to God you're crazy," he said wearily.

Rose raised an eyebrow. "Um, alright," she said with a slight chuckle, "I'm trying not to see that as an insult. Why exactly do you want me to be insane?"

"Because aliens and time travel sound like ten new kinds of crazy that I do not need in my life." Rose laughed, a warm, pleasant sound, and the Hunter grinned slightly despite himself. He shook his head briefly, then snapped back into Hunter mode, deciding aloud, "We need to find out more about Mal. Something has to be keeping her here, some piece of DNA that got left behind, a lock of hair or a fingernail or something. We should talk to Tom again, see if she had anything like that." He switched over into the left lane, setting up for a U-turn to take them back to Tom's house.

The girl nodded. "Alright. Hopefully he'll know something, and if not he can help us look." There was silence for a few moments, then she spoke up again. "It's not all bad, you know."

John's brow furrowed. "What isn't?"

"Aliens and time travel," she clarified. "It's not all aliens trying to take over the world and people dying. There's good aliens out there, fantastically wonderful aliens, and incredible planets. Living like that, yeah, you see people at their worst, but you get to see all the best of them too. You know, Gandhi, Rosa Parks, people who did good in their lives, who gave everything they had to help people. And it's not just big names like that either. There are so many good, ordinary people out there. And I think that's the best thing. There's a woman out there named Gwyneth who died saving Cardiff from the Gelth, a servant girl no one ever paid any mind to, and a man named Mickey Smith who saved a parallel world from Cybermen. No one knows who they are, and no one ever will, but they were heroes, and because of the way I live, I got to see that. Well, the way I lived, anyway."

John listened quietly, studying the girl as she spoke. She had started out sounding proud of her life traveling time, but as she went on, her voice grew dull, eyes darkening with grief, shoulders slouching. He remembered her uncontrollable sobbing from earlier, and couldn't help but wonder what it was she had lost.

The Hunter looked away gruffly, commenting, "Sounds like a good life."

Rose shook herself slightly, composing herself before responding, "Yeah. Yeah, it was."

John snorted. "Well mine isn't. There aren't any good ghosts or ghouls, not any that I've met. There aren't any grand views or fun adventures. There's just nightmares and everything you could ever think of waiting in the shadows to eat you alive. There's nothing glorious about this life, so if that's what you're here for, might as well get out now."

The girl rolled her eyes. "I'm here to help people," she said testily. "How many times do I have to keep telling you that? Besides, I can't exactly go back to normal after two years of time and space."

John just shook his head. "Whatever. Let's just finish the job first." He turned the radio on, cutting off any further attempt at conversation as he turned the volume up on AC/DC.

Whatever Rose's deal was, he wanted it to be the only thing on his plate when he dealt with it.

**SCENEBREAK**

Tom slipped out of his house, dully closing and latching the door behind him. He felt like he was walking in a fog of some sort, every movement distorted, like something was weighing him down. His thoughts were equally sluggish and confused. He wasn't sure what he thought about anything anymore, except that he had to get out of that cramped little house and get some fresh air. Slipping the keys back into his pocket, he started off down the sidewalk, barely feeling the cold bite of the wind.

It wasn't really even the revelation that ghosts were real. It was a little freaky, yeah, but it had just been that, he was pretty sure he could've handled it. No, it was Mal, and how she'd come back. More specifically, how she'd tried to kill him.

He'd always wondered to himself whether Mal was happy where she was, if she was anywhere at all, if she really was in a better place. Whether she blamed him or not for her death. He had agonized over it all that year, if it had really been his fault or not, and what Mal could possibly think of him. But now, he knew. She did blame him. She had tried to kill him. And now he'd killed her again, and it was all his fault, all of it. Mal would still be alive if it weren't for him being a stupid, _selfish_ coward. Hell, Mal'd been right to try and kill him, and he knew it.

Part of him wished she had succeeded.

As he trudged along the street, shoulders hunched in misery, his hand brushed something in his pocket. He pulled it out, feeling another stab of guilt as he recognized it. In the palm of his hand lay Mal's locket, the one her mother had given her. Something hard formed in his throat, and he could feel tears threatening to spill over. With a shaking hand, he undid the clasp and opened the silver heart, laying on his palm so he could see inside. Two short locks of brown hair were curled inside the rim of one half, with a picture of Mal and her mother on the other side. His fingers absently traced the curl of the lock of hair. Mal and her mom had been so close. Her dad had skipped town before Mal was born, and her mom had stepped up to the task of juggling being a single mom with a full-time job with a gusto.

She had been heartbroken when Mal died. And it was his fault.

Tom's vision blurred. His tears finally spilled over, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He snapped the locket shut and closed his hand around it, clenching his fist until he could feel the outline of the heart pressing into his palm. He moved to return the necklace to his pocket, then paused, considering. Finally, he lowered his hand, locket still clenched tightly. He didn't want to put it away. Not yet.

The night wore on, and he kept walking. He couldn't stop. Something kept pushing him on, kept him feeling restless and weary all at once. Whatever it was, he suddenly knew where it was leading him. Honestly, he wasn't surprised. He always knew he'd end up here again.

Tom finally came to the house, pausing in front of it. He hadn't come here since Mal died. It would've been too painful, for this is where she and Paul had lived before her death, and where Paul lived still. As he watched, a lithe blond figure passed by the window, reaching for something on the counter. Tom's eyes narrowed. It was Paul's new girlfriend, a girl he'd only met a few times before. For a moment, he hesitated. Paul was at fault, but he didn't want to drag this girl into this.

The blond girl swung her head to the side, blond hair swinging around to behind her shoulder. She grinned at something Tom couldn't see, then a tall, well-built man with dirty blond hair strode into view. Tom felt his stomach clench at the sight of him. _Paul_. He threw an arm around the girl's waist and leaned in, chin resting on her shoulder, face buried in her neck. The girl laughed, and Tom felt a blaze of fury. How dare he move on from Mal so quickly. How dare he live like that and act like nothing happened, like he wasn't the reason his girlfriend had lived miserably, why she was dead.

To hell with caution. His day had been way too weird to worry and hang back. Tom stormed up to Paul's front door and started hammering on the door. He bellowed out, "Paul! Get over here!"

He could hear footsteps inside, then Paul's voice from within. "Alright, alright, I'm coming, don't break down my door dude." The taller man pulled the door open, expression hardening as he recognized Tom. "Tom," he said coolly.

The blond girl peered around Paul, looking at Tom curiously. "Who there's, honey?" she asked.

Paul gave a tight smile. "Just an old friend. He was just leaving."

There was a hard edge to his tone. The last part was a warning, but right now, Tom was in no mood to listen. "We need to talk," he told Paul in a low voice.

Paul narrowed his eyes. "No, we don't," he said more firmly.

Tom lifted his chin, glaring as defiantly as he dared at the pissed-off jock. "I'm not leaving until we talk," he growled out.

"Listen, you little bi-"

"Hey, why don't we just calm down –" his girlfriend began, looking oddly between the two men.

Paul whirled to face her, barking out a quick, "Shut up!" The girl jerked back, looking at her boyfriend with a shocked expression. Tom guessed that she hadn't been with Paul long enough for him to show his true temper.

While Paul was distracted with his girlfriend, Tom pushed past him into the house, storming into his kitchen. Paul whirled to face him, every muscle rigid with anger. He stalked towards him, barking out, "Get the hell out of my house!"

Paul moved a hand to push him, but Tom beat him to it, shoving the man's chest back with everything he had. "It was your fault!" he cried. He hated the way his voice cracked, the way he had to ball his fists to keep himself from trembling. Rage was blazing got under his skin as he raged, "You're the reason Mal's dead! It's because of you!"

The girl looked at him with wide eyes. Her gaze shifted uneasily to her boyfriend. "Paul, what the hell's he talking about?" she asked sharply.

Paul ignored her. "I don't know what you're talking about," he growled. "It was an accident, Tommy boy. Suck it up and move on."

Tom felt a flash of rage. "You selfish, sadistic son of a bitch," he gasped out. The fury was burning under his skin, pounding against his skull, balling up inside until it felt like there was a cold knot in his chest. Rational thought flew out of his head as he threw a wild punch at Paul's head. The stronger man dodged easily, swatting Tom's fist away while responding with a hard slam to the gut. Tom jerked back, feeling the wind fly out of him. He gasped for air, but wasn't given much of a chance to recover. Paul gave him a hard blow to the jaw, sending him slamming down onto the ground.

He landed shoulder-first, head snapping back against the hard wooden floor. White-hot pain shot through the back of his skull, spreading steadily to his neck and shoulders. He heard the girlfriend let out a shocked cry as he fell, and as the pain spread through him, he vaguely heard her yell, "What the hell, Paul?!" He looked up in time to see Paul shove her back, throwing her against a wall. She let out a slight cry, but fell silent after that, gaze darting between the two guys.

Tom forced back a whimper of pain as he blinked blearily up at Paul. The taller man's face was contorted with rage, voice low and husky as he sputtered, "What the hell are you playing at kid? It's been a year, goddamn it. That bitch got what was coming to her, and so will you if you don't watch your fucking mouth. 'Kay? You just keep your trap _shut_."

Tom felt himself quivering with rage, but his head was still ringing, and he knew that if he got up, he would just start swinging again, and that would land him right back on the floor. So he stayed put, glaring up at the man he'd hated all that year. "You're a coward, Paul," he said shakily.

Paul's eyes narrowed. "What did you just say to me?" he demanded.

"You heard me," he hissed. "You're freaking pathetic, you're just evil. You made Mal's life hell for years, and you have the nerve to blame her?! She's dead because of you! You killed her! You made her into that, that _thing_, you made her kill those people! She was so damn miserable that she couldn't move on."

Paul's expression had gone from rage to plain confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked.

Tom bit back a groan, clutching his stomach where Paul had slugged him. The fight had drained out of him. All he felt now was a weary hatred, and the grief and fear of the earlier ghost encounter. He looked up at Paul, blinking through the pain. "I wish I'd killed you instead, when I had the chance," he rasped.

Before Paul could say anything, the lights in the house suddenly began to flicker, and the temperature dropped. Tom felt himself freeze with fear as his breath turned to white fog. _No_. He said it aloud, a whimpering mantra of, "No, no, no, no."

Paul looked around. "What the hell?" Tom ignored him, his frantic whimpering growing quieter in fear. It was over, it was supposed to be over, they had promised it was over!

One of the knives on the kitchen counter began to move of it's own accord, lifting up into the air. Paul's eyes widened, and the girl let out a gasp. Tom's heart stopped cold as Mal materialized in front of them, the knife gripped tight in her hand. Her eyes weren't dull and emotionless like before. Now they burned with rage and hatred as they fixed themselves first on Tom, then on Paul. She let out a hiss that echoed ominously. "_You did this!_"

Tom closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He stuffed his hand in his pocket and clutched the locket tight. _I'm so sorry._

Mal took a step forward, lifted the knife, and grinned.

Silence, and then screaming. Then, nothing.

_I'm sorry_.

* * *

I won't be spending a lot of time on these chapter comments, it's 3 am for me (stupid college hours) but whatever, I finally finished the chapter. I've been struggling a bit with my concept of this story, mostly with Rose, so I think after me and my roommate are done with our Supernatural marathon, I'll head back to watch some of the Rose episodes, so I can get a better feel for her character. I'm just going to have to work to get her to fit in the SPN verse, methinks.

I'm actually pretty happy with how this chapter came out, especially the part with Tom. The title came from me thinking about the song How To Save A Life by The Fray. Not sure how much it really portains to this chapter, but it sorta kinda fit with Tom's guilt over Mal, and it's currently stuck in my head, so whatever.


End file.
